Forever Yours Series Bundle (Book 1-3)

“What are her chances of making a respectable alliance?”

“At five and twenty? Little to none. There is something else,” he muttered, sounding a trifle apprehensive. “Lord Coventry has declared his wish to marry her, and our father has agreed. Emma has no notion of the alliance.”

Shock froze her. She had not heard of this outrage.

“Coventry! The man can’t be a day under sixty.” There was a thoughtful pause, and then the duke said, “Will she have him? You know she is very decided with her opinions.”

“Deuced stubborn and fanciful, that’s what she is.”

“Still, the old earl cannot be acceptable. Emma will not be happy with your decision. Hell, I’m not happy with it,” Elliot said gruffly, a vein of surprise in his tone.

“The task of arranging her a proper match is harder than I’d imagined. She does not make it easy.”

“You know it to be more. She is still hurt from…”

Her stomach knotted at the mention of her accident. Unable to tolerate the tone their discussion was taking, she knocked firmly and entered, moving carefully.

“Anthony dearest, I—” She paused, quite dramatically. “Your grace, I wasn’t aware you had called.”

Emma shifted to face him fully. She wasn’t prepared for the impact of sensations upon seeing him. Pleasure and nerves. The duke’s tall frame was one of powerful, lithe elegance. His dark hair was perfectly groomed, and his beautiful golden eyes ensnared her. His dark lashes were velveted soft and so long, she noticed as he bowed over her hand. His hands were strong and firm, and she was relieved when he let go of her fingers because the fleeting touch sent a thrill up her spine. Elliot was held to be driven and intense, reputed to be brilliant in business, a thing which had shocked society for a duke had no reason to be doing anything but being a duke. Even after eight years of mingling with the ton, Elliot was an enigma to both the press and society and unfortunately, a bit reserved and cold. Especially towards her.

Still, a frightening surge of longing and an ache travelled through her heart. He had only to be in the same room, and the response came unbidden.

The arrogant lift of his eyebrow and the amused slant of his lips said he knew her to be lying. Then his eyes dropped to her walking stick, and her gut tightened. It was always the first place someone looked, at the stick, and then her limp, and then pity would cross their features, and their voices would soften dramatically as if she were addled and they needed to speak with care.

How wretched it made her feel. Only a few people conversed with her without any undertones of pity and speculation.

“How wonderful to see you again, Miss Fitzgerald.”

How formal he was, as if there hadn’t been a time they had swum together in the pond, as if he hadn’t taught her to fish, and as if he hadn’t kissed her once, and stolen her heart away.

Relief filled her that he sounded normal, and his eyes had returned to her face. Not that he had ever treated her as an invalid, but it had been a while since they had cause to be in each other’s company. She had never been able to predict his responses to her entirely. “It has been six months,” she said pertly, wincing at the soft reprimand in her voice.

His expression was faintly amused. “Has it?”

His eyes were the deep gold of a lion, so stunning and unique. There had always been a profound stillness in his gaze, one that she felt she couldn’t touch or understand, one that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. She’d always thought she was fanciful, unsure if the sensation of danger was real or an illusion. They stared at each other until her brother cleared his throat. She flushed and glanced away.

“Forgive me for interrupting you, Anthony. I’ve invited Vicar Marbury, his wife, and delightful daughter to dinner. I trust this is acceptable?”

Her brother scowled. “Do I have to be there? You know how Miss Marbury…she is too attentive.”

Emma thought it served him right for being so odious in encouraging papa once again to select a husband for her, despite her stated wish not to marry. “I’m sure she’ll be charming company.” Emma faced Elliot. “Should I inform the housekeeper to set a place for you as well, Your Grace?”

“Regretfully I must decline. I have a previous engagement I cannot avoid.”

“Of course.” She gave him a small smile that felt too tight. “If I could speak with Anthony for a few minutes in privacy?”

“I was just about to take my leave,” Elliot said smoothly. He dipped his head in a short bow and made his exit.

The door closed firmly on the duke’s departure, and she made her way to the blue damask sofa and lowered herself, carefully arranging her walking stick to the side. She considered her brother for a few moments. It was mortifying to admit she had been eavesdropping, but she could not allow him and papa to decide her life as if she had no thoughts or hopes of her own.

Her family did nothing that did not administer to their own comfort, and it was evident they wanted her off their hands. A peculiar grief darted through her. “I’ve tried not to be a burden despite my limitations.”

He shot her a reproving glance. “You are my sister, and I love you, Emma. You have never been a burden and never will be. You speak nonsense.”

“Then why did you not tell me Papa was speaking with Lord Coventry about marriage? Is that not for your own comfort? For surely you could not believe I have any affection for the earl.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I want what is best for you,” he said with soft intensity. “Our family wants what is best for you.”